rushes up my neck to flood my face.
“Or how you laugh when you’re truly happy instead of bitter. Or sarcastic. Or angry.”
I open my mouth but shut it again, not knowing what to say.
His voice drops an octave. “Or how long you’re going to punish me for reminding you of your father.”
My cheeks flame hotter. My heart jumps into my throat. I hate it that he can push my buttons like this. That he knows things about me, all kinds of painful, personal things he shouldn’t.
I hate it, and I hate him.
“Forever,” I say hotly. “And you don’t only remind me of him. You are him. Just in a different body.”
“I’m not, lass. I’m really not.”
A faint trace of melancholy colors his tone. Melancholy, longing, and regret. We gaze at each other in crackling loud silence for so long it becomes unbearable. I look away, struggling for breath.
He says softly, “You wore that dress to punish me, too, didn’t you? That dress with no bra underneath so I can see exactly what I can’t have. What you know I want but you’re unwilling to give me.”
I close my eyes. My hands are beginning to shake. “Stop it.”
He continues, his voice still that gentle caress. “I know you did. And I’ll take it. Whatever punishment you need to dispense, I’ll take all of it, lass. Because I know that once we get past the anger and you give me all of you, it will have been worth every pint of blood you needed to extract.”
I open my eyes and look at him, fury lighting up every nerve ending and flooding through my veins. “You conceited, insufferable, stuck-up ass.”
“Guilty. But right.”
I’m so angry, I want to spit. I want to hit something. I can feel the rage coming off me in superheated waves. I step closer to him, my hand curled so hard around the coffee mug I’m surprised it doesn’t shatter.
My voice shaking, I say, “You will never have me. Never. I’d rather die than give myself to you. I’d rather be thrown naked from a cliff into a pool of starving piranha. I’d rather have all my skin peeled off and be rolled in salt, then tarred and feathered. I’d rather—”
He drops his mug, knocks mine from my hand, grabs my face, and kisses me.
16
Killian
Fuck Ryan Reynolds.
I’m not funny. I’m not charming. I’m definitely not self-deprecating.
I’m Killian fucking Black.
17
Jules
Once upon a time, I was a lonely little girl who played with dolls and had an invisible friend and daydreamed about the day my Prince Charming would arrive to sweep me off my feet and take me away from my cloistered, claustrophobic life to live with him in his beautiful castle.
My prince was kind. He was noble. He was strong and brave, but most of all, he was good.
He was so damn good that a dragon would throw itself at his feet and stretch out its neck willingly for the honor of being slain by a man of such goodness.
My prince did not kill other men.
My prince also did not lie, cheat, steal, extort protection money from merchants, or run prostitution rings, drug cartels, or illegal gambling operations.
He wasn’t arrogant. Nor was he irritating, nor bossy, nor vain.
He was not the subject of government criminal investigations.
He owned clothing other than black Armani suits.
He was, in short, the most perfect specimen of manhood that an innocent child could imagine.
But I never, in all my wildest dreams, imagined that my good prince could kiss like this.
Killian’s mouth is hot and demanding, fused to mine with ferocious need. He kisses me like he’s starving. Like he’s dying. Like he’s been waiting for this exact moment his entire life and now that it’s here, he’s going to wring every drop of pleasure from it or kill himself trying.
He spins me around, pushes me up against the car, flattens his body against mine, and thrusts his tongue deeper into my mouth. When I arch against him, digging my fingers into the muscles of his back, he makes a sound of pleasure low in this throat that is utterly masculine and sexual.
It’s a growl. A rumble. A lion’s guttural grunt of dominance as he mounts his lioness.
When he realizes I’m not fighting him or trying to push him away, he moans into my mouth, moving one hand to encircle my throat and burying the other in my hair.
He pulls my head back and kisses me deeper.
The kiss goes on until I’m delirious. My breasts feel heavy and